


Regrets and Make-ups

by angylinni



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angylinni/pseuds/angylinni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver let his love of Quidditch take over his life and in the process lost everything he held dear.  Has he lost her forever or does he still have a chance to regain the love of his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets and Make-ups

Oliver closed the Floo connection for the fourth time that evening. Damnation! Where was she?

“Dad?” Connell’s voice floated through the house and he leapt up, racing towards his son’s bedroom.

“I’m here, Conn, what do you need, sport?” he asked, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed.

The dark haired boy smiled tiredly. “I’m just bored,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

Oliver chuckled, staring down into dark eyes that reminded him entirely too much of Lavender. Fate had a twisted sense of humor by giving him a son that was almost the spitting image of the woman he’d loved and lost nearly six years ago. “Well, you can’t get back on a broom for a week, so you’ll have to catch up on your studies.”

“Dad!” Connell whined, flopping back against the pillows.

“Conn!” Oliver replied in exactly the same tone.

Connell pouted and changed the subject quickly. “Did you find Mum yet?”

Oliver sighed, raking his hand through his grey sprinkled hair. “No, I’ve tried four times, she must be out for the evening,” he said, patting his son’s shoulder. “I’ll keep trying though, I promise.”

Connell nodded, not really wanting to tell his Dad that Mum had started dating again. It was nothing serious, just dinner and a few drinks with one of the guys from work. “It’s okay; she should be home tomorrow then.”

Oliver nodded, picking up the rucksack that sat beside the bed and pulling out the Transfiguration textbook. “How about you get a start on your essay?” he asked, handing over the book.

Connell grimaced. “How’d you know I have an essay due?”

Oliver chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his son’s thick, dark hair. “Because McGonagall never changes and there’s always an essay due for the fourth year Transfiguration class, son.”

Connell sighed and opened the book. Oliver rose, going back out to the kitchen to try the Floo once more.

Four hours later, long after Connell had fallen asleep, Oliver tried once more, Lavender’s irritated face appearing in the dancing flames. “Yes?”

“Where in the bloody hell have you been?” he asked, a scowl on his face.

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Oliver?” she asked, her voice clipped.

He sat back, preparing for the explosion. “There’s been an accid—”

“Move!” she ordered, cutting him off.

He frowned. “Now lass—”

“Don’t you lass me, Oliver Wood! Now, move the hell out of the way so I can come through!” Lavender said icily

He rose, shaking his head. Some things never change. She stumbled a bit as she came through the hearth and his arms automatically moved forward to steady her.

She glared up at him, brushing the soot from her shoulders. He sighed, his eyes skimming over her, noting the dressy robes she wore. His eyes narrowed. “Were you on a date?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Oliver, I was on a date!” she snapped angrily, advancing towards him. “We’ve been divorced for nearly a year; I think its okay for me to date, don’t you?”

He sighed; he really didn’t want to get into this argument yet again, not when Connell had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. “Lavender, I don’t want to argue with you—” he began before her hand came up, cutting him off.

“You said there was an accident?” she asked, her face closing off.

He nodded, raking his hand through his short hair. “Conn fell off of his broom playing Quidditch this afternoon.”

“What? Oh sweet Godric! Is he okay? Why didn’t you contact me?” The words spilled from her mouth so quickly that he had a hard time keeping up.

“He’s fine, his leg is broken.”

Her gaze narrowed again. “Where is he?”

He grabbed her arm before she could stalk by him towards the bedroom that Connell used when he stayed there. “He’s sleeping,” he said quickly.

She shook him off. “I won’t wake him; I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

He held up his hands and backed off, going back into the kitchen as she made her way down the short hallway. Stopping at the door, she pushed it open slowly, her heart easing as she saw him, his hair messy and sticking up, one leg propped up on a makeshift pallet of pillows. Easing the door closed, she went back into the kitchen.

Oliver handed her the cup of cocoa silently. Her eyebrows rose as she smelled the delicate aroma. “You remembered,” she said softly.

His eyes met hers. “I remember a lot of things, lass.”

Lavender sighed, sitting down at the counter, sipping her cocoa and avoiding his gaze. “We don’t work together, Oliver, we’re no good together,” she said softly.

He rose, walking over to her, anger radiating off of him. “Go look at tha’ boy in there and tell me agin that we’re nae good taegether!” His brogue was thick and she shivered involuntarily as it slid over her, pulling her into its comforting familiarity.

Her eyes rose and to her horror she could feel tears pricking them. “We were never enough for you, Oliver. You loved that blasted game more than your family! That’s why I left!”

He frowned, his hands clenching into fists at his side as he stared at her. She met his gaze, sorrow etching her features. His face fell and he sighed, his hand rising to cup her cheek. “You’re right and you don’t know how sorry I am to say that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She backpedaled violently, staring at him with wide eyes. “W-what did you say?” she asked, her voice shaking.

He stepped towards her and she held up her hand. “No, you stay over there and talk.”

He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. “I said you were right, lass. I put my love of Quidditch before my responsibilities as a husband and a father and I don’t blame you for leaving me, I’dve done the same thing.”

Lavender shook her head. “Why now, Oliver? Damn you! I’ve moved on, I have a life now!” she said, pacing the tiny kitchen, glaring over at him every so often.

“Lavender, I never stopped loving you, not even when you walked out, taking my son and my life with you!”

She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, damn you, it’s not fair! You can’t suddenly decide that you want us back! I will NOT let you do that to Connell, nor to me!”

He stalked forward, pulling her into his arms. She fought him wildly, pounding on his chest, but his arms only bound tighter, pulling her closer, his hand guiding her head to rest on his chest. “I didn’t just suddenly decide, lass. I NEVER stopped loving you, or wanting you,” he whispered brokenly, tipping her chin up to make her look at him. His lips covered hers, gently brushing over hers, not pushing, letting her make the next move.

With a muffled sob, she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, her arms winding up around his neck. He gathered her closer, his mouth slanting over hers again and again with wild abandon, hope soaring in his chest.

Finally, they both broke free, panting with the need to breathe. She stared up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I love you, lass,” he whispered tenderly, cupping her cheek.

“Oliver,” she breathed, leaning her cheek against his hand. “I love you too.”

He smiled, tears in his own eyes. “Can we try again? Please Lavender, I need you. I need my family back,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

She nodded, giving him a tremulous smile. “Yes,” she said, leaning up and kissing him again.

Neither one of them saw Connell standing in the doorway, a wide grin on his face. “Yes!” he whispered, pumping his arm in the air before going back to bed.


End file.
